


Nothing Beats a Fresh Pair of Socks Out of the Dryer

by BrittJK



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Fluff, F/M, Online Dating, Two-Handed Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrittJK/pseuds/BrittJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan didn't expect to get any matches she wanted to talk to after being forced to sign up for a dating app by her son and best friend. But when Killian Jones, famous rockstar and Emma's #1 celebrity crush, appears to be one of her matches - well that is a whole new ball game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Beats a Fresh Pair of Socks Out of the Dryer

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the tumblr post: where one person is actually famous and sets up a dating account with their real picture and the other sees it and is like, oh dude you are not fooling anyone with that picture (because srsly trying to catfish someone with a really famous person is hilarious and cute because the profile also had some really dorky info about liking model trains and farmers’ markets) cue an online romance and when they actually meet the other is pissed because DUDE YOU’RE THAT FAMOUS PERSON and the other is like, yeah, i mean, i thought you knew…
> 
> Original Post found here: http://swingsetindecember.tumblr.com/post/109946572482/where-one-person-is-actually-famous-and-sets-up-a

 

_Killian Jones, 32_  
_Musician, Pirate – 17 miles_  
_Things I prefer to loud clubs and busy awards shows: long nights out sailing, watching the sunrise along the horizon, a perfectly organized bookshelf, finally getting that ship-in-a-bottle upright. As well, nothing beats a fresh pair of socks out of the dryer – matched, of course._  
_Looking for someone to chat with and get to know. Send me a wink ;)_

Emma Swan stares at the screen of her phone, not believing what she reads. Mary Margaret has been asking her to start dating for the past year and a half. Finally, when her twelve year old son Henry piped in, whining about Emma needing to get out there again (seriously when did this kid grow up so fast), she finally relented and allowed the two to download the stupid dating app for her. Henry and Mary Margaret (and David, once he came home, for that matter) spent the better part of two hours putting the final details on Emma’s profile.

It is some sort of hip dating app, one for young professionals that only gives you a single match a day. No more flooding your inbox with tinder requests, or people who are “DTF”, or scrolling through photo after photo. Nope, this app just sends you one match a day and lets you figure out if you want to talk to them or not.

Emma had ignored the first ten or so guys she got matched with. Living in LA, you are bound to get matched with some creeps, even when the app is supposed to be more professional. She had accepted one match, a man named Walsh who owns a furniture store, but their entire conversation was about the pros and cons of wood vs. leather furnishings, and Emma pretty much ignored him ever since. At one point Emma was matched with Graham, a fellow police officer in her precinct, and she had clicked yes just to see the look on his face when she showed up to work. The two had joked about it for a little over a week. Since then, though, Emma hasn’t seen anyone worthwhile on this dating app.

After a month of matches, Emma is about ready to give up. Then she gets matched with Killian Jones.

She has to do a double take, stare at the photo to see if it is really him. Killian Jones, famous rockstar, Henry’s absolute-all-time favourite celebrity, and one of the only people on Emma Swan’s “if we have to do security detail for someone sign me up ASAP and don’t call in the morning” list.

This has to be a joke. First off, the photo doesn’t even really look like him. The famous Killian Jones is sitting on a boat, his trademark eyeliner nowhere to be seen, and he is wearing a blue Henley and jeans. No leather, no punk-rock look – nothing. Second, there is the bio. Organized bookshelves and ship-in-a-bottles? Where was this guy coming from? Emma isn’t even going to touch the whole socks thing.

Emma’s hand hovers over the “move on” button, but she pauses for a minute. What is the harm in a little fun, right? I mean, this guy is obviously just catfishing girls into clicking yes – there is no way Killian Jones would put those comments up on his profile. And from what Emma has read about him (and, she is sad to admit, she has read a lot), Killian Jones does really enjoy going out to loud clubs and busy award shows. At least, that is what is seems like whenever TMZ catches him, a new girl on his arm each week. As she hesitates above the yes or no buttons, a hand falls on her shoulder and Emma jumps up in surprise.  

“What’cha got there, Emma? You seem to be hard in thought about something,” Graham says, leaning over Emma to place a coffee on her desk. “Too much paperwork from the Scarlet arrest?”

Emma pauses, looking up from her phone. “Graham, take a look at this,” she says, thrusting the phone into Graham’s line of vision. “This guy has to be joking, right?”

“Is this that dating app again?” Graham asks, grabbing the phone and taking a moment to look at the photo and read the bio that goes with it.

“Is this who I think this is?” he asks, handing the phone back to Emma.

“It is so obviously someone catfishing, isn’t it?” Emma asks. “There is no way this can be real.”

“I don’t know Emma… it could be. I mean, even Killian Jones needs to date, right?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Well, yes. But he wouldn’t use an app to do it – he’d want someone in the business, right? Find someone who can keep up with his day to day life? It is definitely a catfish.” Emma says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Sounds like you are trying to convince yourself,” Graham says with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, then a smile forms on his face. “But if it was someone catfishing, it would be good police work to find out who it is, right? Figure out who is behind the face? We could be looking at a case of fraud.”

A smile forms on Emma’s face as she gets the true meaning of Graham’s words. An out, as it will, to see if this is the real Killian Jones. Or to at least get her flirt on and imagine it is. “Yeah, right. I should message him, see if he is who he says he is. Because it’s LA – we can’t have someone impersonating a rockstar on the internet, right?”

“No we can’t,” Graham says, heading back towards his desk with a smirk still plastered on his face. “Just don’t let this new assignment,”-Graham over accentuates the word with some air quotes-“get in the way of the Scarlet paperwork.”

“Ha ha,” Emma replies. She reaches forward and takes a sip of her coffee, letting out a little moan at the taste. “And thanks for the coffee,” she calls, before quickly turning to her phone and hitting the “Match Me Up” button.

“Have some fun with it, Swan. You deserve it.” Graham calls from across the room.

Ignoring her friend, Emma sends a quick message of “Hey, I’m Emma.  I like your profile” before closing out of the app and returning to her paperwork. There is no way Killian Jones, or whoever it is pretending to be him, is going to reply. Emma throws her phone into the top drawer on her desk and promises to finish the Scarlet paperwork before the day is up.

* * *

Emma doesn’t check her phone until 3:00, forgetting that it was sitting in her drawer for the whole day. She always works either early morning daytime shifts, being off in time to grab Henry from school, or the late shifts when Henry stays over with David and Mary Margaret. Today, however, she is running late and doesn’t even know if she will have time to get to Henry’s school before it lets out for the day.

She grabs her phone to let Henry know she will be late, and finds that it had blown up through the course of the day. Two new messages from Mary Margaret, one from Henry, and a few app notifications. Emma deals with Henry’s message first – a question of if he can go over to a friend’s house for a sleepover that night. Apparently they have a big science project to work on and they would do better just hanging out all night. Emma sends a reply to Henry telling him he is free to go – just to call when they get to his friend’s house and to text the next morning when they get to class. At least that saves Emma a rushed trip to Henry’s school.

Next is Mary Margaret’s texts – just the usual poking and prodding into her social life, and an invitation to dinner later that week. Maybe, if the notification from the dating app is from fake Killian Jones, Emma will actually have something to tell Mary Margaret at dinner. Emma checks Facebook next, letting out a laugh at the photo Henry posted to her wall – a selfie the two took a week earlier at a donut shop, icing sugar moustaches on their faces. Finally, Emma sees there is only one notification left – from the dating app.

Emma opens it tentatively, going to the section where matches can chat with each other. There is one new message, from a “Killian Jones”.  

_“Hello Emma. I’m Killian, though you already know that. How are you today, love?”_

It was sent four hours ago. Emma is impressed – only one message sent in reply and no frantic questions about not getting anything back. Usually lots the guys on dating apps are fairly needy – only waiting a few minutes for a reply before getting impatient. Plus, the guy used Killian Jones’s classic line of calling anything that is female ‘love’. This guy has really done his research. Emma takes a moment to formulate a quick reply – something that doesn’t give too much away but maybe prompts some conversation.

“Heading home from work, have the night off. Quite excited about it, actually.”

Emma puts her phone down and gathers her bag to take home. She spends a few minutes putting away all her papers and documents, filling things away to be worked on in the morning. It’s too early for dinner, but Emma figures she can order something in and treat herself. She starts scrolling through a list of take-out places on her phone as she walks down to the parking garage. Just as she reaches her yellow bug, a notification pops up on her screen. One new message from Killian Jones.

“ _Off early – that must be nice. Let me know when you get home. I’d love for us to chat.”_

That's odd. No invitation to spend the night with him, no cheesy flirtatious line. Just an invitation to talk for the night. Not wanting to leave the guy hanging, Emma replies with a “will do” before getting in her bug and driving home.

* * *

LA traffic isn’t as bad as usual, considering Emma missed the grunt of rush-hour by getting to avoid picking up Henry. It still takes her almost an hour before she is trudging up the stairs to her apartment and collapsing on the couch. She looks around at the state of the apartment – Henry has left out some of his toys, plus there are game controllers everywhere. Not to mention the state of their laundry hampers.

Begrudgingly, Emma gets up and begins to clean up some of the scattered piles of toys. Though it isn’t what she wanted to do tonight, getting some chores out of the way is probably a good idea. She collects the laundry and takes the first load down to the apartment’s shared laundry facilities. After returning back upstairs, Emma pours herself a glass of red wine and grabs the TV remote, finding her favourite chick-flick on Netflix to throw on. The words on screen are drowned out by the sounds of her phone ringing, and Emma quickly answers after seeing her son’s smiling face lighting up the screen.

“Hey Kid! Did you make it to Tommy’s alright?” Emma asks, pausing the movie and sinking deeper into the couch.

“Yeah, we just got in. Traffic was awful today, mom.” Henry replies. Emma can hear someone talking on the other end of the phone, probably Tommy or one of his many brothers yelling about something.

“Do you need me to bring anything of yours by? Or does Tommy’s mom have extras of everything?” Emma asks.

“I think I’m good. Gym got cancelled today for an assembly, so I still have an extra pair of clothes for tomorrow. And Tommy’s mom says they have spare toothbrushes and pajamas I can use.”

“Perfect,” Emma replies, glad she has a fairly resourceful kid on her hands. “Well, be good and call me whenever you need.”

“Will do, Mom,” Henry replies. There are more sounds of muffled screaming on the other end of the line. “I have to go – project and all that. Love you!”

“Love you too, kid,” Emma replies. “And don’t forget to text when you get to school tomorrow.”

“Yup,” comes the reply, before more muffled noises followed by the dial tone.

Emma lets out a small sigh, conflicted with being upset that Henry is away for the night and also totally looking forward to just relaxing, getting some chores done, and maybe having a nice bubble bath. Her stomach lets out a big growl, a reminder that maybe it is time to order some dinner. She sees a notification on her phone from Killian Jones, and opts to see what he has to say before she orders her Chinese.

“ _I hope you made it home safe, love. I would hate to have started conversing to hear that you’ve been in a massive car wreck on the way home from work.”_

God, who is this guy? The little green dot next to his name shows that he is online, so Emma sends out a reply, hoping to satisfy his curiosity.

“Made it home safe, just got distracted. Don’t worry, you won’t find a news report about a giant car wreck with me in it.” As soon as the message is sent, she sees the three little dots appear to show that Killian Jones is writing a reply.

“ _Good. I’d hate to have the first time I see your lovely face be at a funeral. I was hoping for a happier engagement.”_

“I bet you are.” Emma says out loud, before typing the same words back, opting to add a winky face just for kicks. The three dots don’t appear again, so Emma takes the opportunity to order her Chinese food. The place is just down the street, so twenty minutes and thirty bucks later, Emma gets herself comfy again in the couch, presses play on the Netflix remote, and grabs her wine glass back. If she is going to do some serious flirting tonight with fake Killian Jones, she is going to do it in comfort. Opening her phone up again, Emma is happy to note a message waiting for her.

“ _So what is it you got distracted with? I hope it wasn’t some other guy.”_

Emma lets out a laugh. “Only if another guy is considered Carey Elwes, three loads of laundry, the delivery guy, and a large glass of wine.” She types back. It takes Killian less than thirty seconds to reply, and Emma smiles with her mouth full of chow mein on seeing his reply.

“ _The Princess Bride? A girl of my own heart.”_

Who would have guessed that Killian Jones knew the Princess Bride? And knew it by mention of one of the actors, even? There was no way he had looked it up in that short amount of time. Yeah, everything this guy was saying made him seem more and more like a normal guy and not the punk rock celebrity he claims to be. Even if he is just a normal guy, hiding behind Killian Jones’ persona, he seems sweet. And gained a whole bunch of points with knowing her favourite movie. It isn’t so bad to want to keep chatting, right? But right now, she is giving away way too much and getting nothing back.

“So what are you up to, Killian Jones?” Emma asks, swaying the conversation more towards him. This time he takes a little longer to reply. The three dots keep appearing and disappearing – clearly he is taking his time thinking of a good cover story. Emma shakes her head, putting the phone down and focusing instead on her movie and dinner. Just as Wesley is being attacked by some Rodents Of Unusual Size, Emma’s phone dings again. 

“ _Sitting on my boat, watching the sunset, attempting to write. It’s harder than it looks when you don’t really want to be writing and are more interested in chatting up a lovely lass on your phone.”_

With a groan, Emma sends out a reply. “Did someone write that line for you, or did you come up with it all on your own?”

“ _What line, love? It is the truth,” c_ omes the reply not a moment later. Followed quickly by, “ _Though I can see now how I could have left out the sunset part.”_

Emma rolls her eyes, but continues chatting with “Killian Jones”. Though she normally would have written the guy off for that line, he seems to be pretty sincere about it. It wasn’t even that awful a line. Honestly, he is living up to the flirty Killian Jones reputation. _And_ he hasn’t yet propositioned her to meet when they’ve been messaging for a little under an hour.

Another message pops up before Emma has a chance to reply to the first two Killian sent, but she is glad to have an out for the current line of conversation.

“ _All lines aside, love. What leaves you home alone on a Tuesday doing laundry and eating take-out? And flirting with a pirate like me. Surely you must have something better to do.”_

“Do you want the honest answer?” Emma replies. This is normally the time Emma brings up having a twelve year old son and the guy goes running away scared. Perhaps fake Killian Jones would be different – though she has no idea how the real Killian Jones would act in this situation either. Wasn’t he attached to that celebrity with a son at one point? And she does think she remembers reading about him performing in hospitals for the sick children…

Her phone beeps, and Emma looks down to see the reply. “ _Give me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”_

He wants the truth? Killian Jones is getting the truth. And if he takes it? Then the flirting can definitely continue. “Honestly, I haven’t had a good night to myself in a long time. I’m either working nights or taking care of my kid (his name is Henry – he’s twelve). But tonight Henry went over to a friend’s house and so I have a night to myself. I was going to relax and take a bubble bath but the state of my house and the state of our laundry baskets seemed priority #1 because I have no idea when I’ll have another free night alone. And so I am indulging in the one thing that I want which is Princess Bride and a nice glass of wine.”

With a deep breath, Emma re-reads her long reply and clicks the send button, trying to remember her reasoning on why she actually is telling the truth so early into their conversations. The minutes of waiting after sending this message, the minutes of watching those three small dots bouncing on her phone, are some of the longest of Emma’s life. She doesn’t really know why she cares so much – why it matters that this guy is okay with her having a son – but there is a little voice in the back of her head saying that if he is as okay a guy as he seems then he would be okay with Henry too. And an even smaller one saying that if this is indeed Killian Jones, then she 100% needs him to be okay with Henry for any flirting to continue. Emma tries to focus on the movie, not her phone, but she finds it impossible. She ends up rewinding and pausing the movie, waiting for the reply so that she can focus again.

Finally, Emma’s phone alerts her to a new message.

” _Well it seems you are taking advantage of having the night off then. Sometimes you just need a day to sit alone and relax (or at least that is what I try to convince my manager when they want a new song by the morning).”_

Emma stares down at her phone, a little confused, until another message pops up.

“ _I was a twelve year old boy once, Swan. (Can I call you Swan? I’m calling you Swan) I completely understand you needing an entire week off if you can get it.”_  

She lets out a breath of relief that she didn’t realize she was holding. And with the tension gone, Emma relaxes back into the couch and grabs her the remote to re-start the movie.

“Well then you probably know how much laundry a twelve year old makes in a week,” Emma sends.

“ _That would be quite a bit, Swan. Though I am proud to say men usually grow out of it.”_

“Are you sure? Or do their messes just get bigger?” Emma replies, throwing in the winking emoticon to go with it.

“ _Touche, Swan.”_ Comes the reply. “ _So tell me about the young lad Henry. Does he play any sports? Like any music? And does his mother have any tastes in music I should know about either?”_

Emma smiles down at her phone. This Killian Jones (or whoever it is pretending to be him) is just fishing for compliments. But also asking about her, and her son, and seems really sweet. Emma decides to give him this one, but not without playing with him a little first.

“Henry’s music taste is pretty diverse – currently his favourite is Justin Bieber. Though I’m quite a big fan of 1D.” Emma punctuates her message with a few hearts, and heart-eye emoji’s.

_“And here I thought we could be friends, Swan.”_

Emma looks down, laughing harder at the reply than some of her favourite lines in the movie. She lets him sit for a minute longer before easing his conscience. “I’m just playing you. Honestly, I can’t get Henry to play anything other than your last album when I take him to school.”

_“Well now that is just flattery. But I will definitely take it. Might I ask your favourite song?”_

They continue to message for most of the evening, and once the Princess Bride is over, Emma finds herself putting on a new movie instead of going to take the bath she was so looking forward to, just so she can keep texting him. Emma has never had this much fun talking with someone in a long time. They talk about a lot of things and also nothing – somehow Emma finds herself talking about how she moved up from being a bail-bonds person up to a cop. She finds she is talking about how hard it was as a single mom raising Henry (she leaves out the jail part though). And she has to admit, this guy has clearly done his research, making up a backstory that seems plausible for Killian Jones. The rockstar is notoriously quiet on his history and past, only really mentioning a bring in the British Navy, a brother that passed when he was younger, and a love lost that is written about quite a bit in his songs. But this guy is delving into real stories about the Navy, and even told a story about his brother that Emma had yet to hear in the media. Plus he is really knowledgeable about Killian Jones’ music, telling Emma the story of how he wrote her favourite song. Or, at least, making up a really good story about it.

As the second movie ends on Emma’s TV, she looks down at her phone to notice that it is nearing 10PM. Holy shit, she has been talking to Killian for almost five hours. And… when in that time has she started calling him _just_ Killian and not “Fake Killian Jones” or “Catfish guy”?

“Shit, Killian. It’s getting late and I still have an early shift tomorrow,” Emma sends, a little upset to have to end the conversation.

_“Ah, so it is. Almost 10 at night. Though I do have to thank you, Swan. I managed to get a good few pieces of salvageable lyrics down during our conversation. My manager may not cut off my hand like he threatened.”_

“Make sure to dedicate it to me on the album,” Emma replies.

_“I wouldn’t dream of dedicating it to anyone else, love.”_

Emma doesn’t know why she finds herself smiling at her phone, but she is. This is stupid – it’s not really him and Emma is letting her crush on a celebrity take her too far with this. But, somehow she doesn’t want to give it up.

“I’m off to bed,” Emma sends, then at the last minute adds “text me tomorrow?”

_“Of course. Sweet dreams love. Try not to dream of me too hard ;)”_

The small green dot next to Killian Jones’s name goes red, indicating that he has closed the app. After gathering up her leftover take-out to put in the fridge and taking her glass to the sink, Emma slowly heads to her bedroom to change into pajamas. And, as she covers herself with the blankets and snuggles up with her pillows, Emma lets her thoughts wander to the rockstar she is supposedly texting. It wouldn’t be the first time Killian Jones graced Emma’s dreams. But tonight if he has a more starring role than usual, well, Emma wouldn’t complain.

* * *

Emma and Killian continue to text over the next few weeks and it continues to get harder and harder for Emma to imagine this kind, nice, nerdy guy (he folds his _socks_ for gods sake) is the rock star that she sees on TMZ coming out of the bars with a different girl around his arm. Although, in the last couple of weeks, it seems that Killian is gracing the tabloids less and less, and spending more time in the studio. Not that Emma is watching TMZ or searching the news for him or anything.

And she is definitely not searching the internet for news on Killian Jones when it is announced that he is playing a live outdoor concert in LA the following week, one that is free to the public that will be streamed online, and where he will premiere his new song live for all to hear.

Within ten minutes of the announcement being made, she has already been told by Graham that they are going to be working the concert (who knows what can happen at an event this size) and Henry has already texted to ask if he can skip school that day to camp out and get a good spot. Emma hasn’t told Graham she is still texting the fake “Killian Jones,” and she definitely hsas’t told Henry she is texting someone who he considers his idol (though Henry does know she has been texting someone through the app). Oh, and for the past ten minutes her phone has been blinking with a new notification from the dating app with one new message from Killian Jones.

_“Hear the news? I’d say a live outdoor concert surrounded by thousands of people is a nice, safe way to meet up. You could even bring your boy – didn’t you say he likes my music?”_

Killian has been asking to meet up for the last week, and Emma has been making excuses. She doesn’t want the bubble to break, the façade to end. She doesn’t want to meet the real guy behind the mask, because believing that the guy she is texting is actually Killian Jones is just… well it is fun. Finding out that it is really all a ploy and fake kind of makes her want to run and hide and close everything out after trusting someone again.

But the concert… Well, yes, it is a nice open location full of people. And it definitely keeps up the rockstar persona. And Emma can always pretend that she tried to come backstage and “meet” him but she wasn’t on the list or anything. But, rereading the message again, Emma does feel like he is really catering to her good side. Mentioning Henry, letting Emma know it is okay to bring the both of them.

Still, she isn’t sure if she fully trusts him yet. “Live concert, middle of LA. Seems pretty convenient. :P” she replies, instead of really answering his question.

“ _Come on, Swan. I promise if you come I won’t let your expectations down. Plus I would really love it if you came to hear the new song.”_

Maybe she could meet him… though after the concert once she is off duty. That way she can watch for stragglers who claim to be Killian Jones and want to meet up at a conveniently timed concert.

“I take it you are getting us backstage passes then? Go big or go home, right?”

“ _I can get you in anywhere you want, love. ;)”_

Emma rolls her eyes at the innuendo, and doesn’t bother replying. Usually after a comment like this her texting partner is quick to reply with something slightly less flirty.

“ _Honestly, though. I’ll put your name and Henry’s on the list. Let me know if you are going to drop by before to be my good luck charm, or afterwards to congratulate me on a job well done.”_

Emma sighs, but before she is able to type a response, gets distracted by Graham coming over with details of a new robbery case at a jewellery shop in downtown LA. By the time she has a chance to check her phone again, there is one new message waiting for her.  

_“Regardless of if you come back or not, Swan, I do really hope you can be there in person to hear my new song. I worked quite hard on it, and I think it is going to be a real hit. And I’d love to get your opinion on it. Until then though…”_

Emma sighs. This man – if only the guy she thinks she is texting is the guy she is really texting. She supposes a month is long enough to string a guy along. She can set up a meeting place for after the concert, and let the guy down softly, then get back to her normal everyday life. That is exactly what she will do. Or, at least what she hopes she can do.

But within a minute, Emma changes her mind. Jump head-first into life, right?

“I think you’ll be needing some luck if you’re premiering a new song ;)” Emma sends, her heart beating out of its chest as she waits for a reply. All Killian sends back is three emojis: a smiling face, a guitar, and a heart.

Smiling down at her phone, Emma tries to figure out what you wear to a rock concert in the middle of the afternoon in the middle of a park where you plan on meeting the guy you’ve been texting who is pretending to be the rockstar.

Now all that is left is finding a way out of working the concert. It might cost Emma weekend shifts for the rest of the month, and possibly all of Graham’s morning coffees for the next year, but Emma thinks she can swing it just this once…

~~~~~~~~~

Emma finds herself nervously running her hands through her hair. Why she opted for a ponytail and a dress for a rock concert, Emma will never know. But here she is, standing at the back of an open-air field with a giant stage set up on the far end and large gates surrounding the whole area. Most of the people around her are wearing jeans and tee-shirts with Killian Jones’ face on it – many with ones they just purchased at the stands set up with merchandise surrounding the fenced-in area.

Henry is somewhere inside with a few friends, Graham being given strict direction to watch him when not watching for crime. Mary Margaret and David are inside somewhere too, probably keeping an eye on Henry as well. Emma had only told the four of them about potentially meeting “Killian Jones” – the one who folds his socks, not the one who plays rock concerts in the park. Just on the off chance that she does get murdered, at least someone knows to look for her cold, dead body.

Mary Margaret had been ecstatic, not knowing that Emma has been messaging someone for the past month. She kept going on about true love, and the feeling Emma will have upon meeting Killian, to which Emma had to explain to her what a catfish is. David acted like the overprotective friend he is, questioning Emma on if she thinks it is safe. And because of the potential dangers (and the obvious risk of murder, even in such an open place), Emma currently has her police issued weapon strapped to her upper thigh, hidden under her flowing pink dress.

Emma looks down at her phone, and reads the last message Killian Jones sent her.

_“Swan - Can’t wait to get all the goodluck you’ll bring me today. Just give Tiny, my bouncer, your name and he should let you and the lad in. I tend to get to my concerts quite a few hours early, so feel free to come by anytime. I’ll be waiting.”_

Calming herself with a deep breath, Emma heads inside the fenced area. She gets a stamp as she goes from one of the bored-looking girls standing at the entrance, and is warned that once they reach capacity she isn’t guaranteed re-entry into the area. It doesn’t take long for Emma to walk along the outskirts to reach the front of the fenced in area. Everyone is crowded in the middle near the stage, most people sitting on the ground on blankets or relaxing – there is still a good hour and a half to the show and no one needs to stand for that long.

As she passes Graham, who is standing near the front, he gives her a little wink. “Go get ‘em, tiger” he mouths, and Emma rolls her eyes at him. Hopefully all the extra paperwork will be worth it.

Stepping up to where the bouncer stands behind a half-wall, Emma awkwardly waits behind a group of girls eagerly trying to get themselves backstage. She doesn’t quite know why the bouncer is called “Tiny” – he is about a foot taller than Emma and twice as wide. But with the frown on his face, probably brought on by having to keep the backstage clear of groupies, he seems pretty standard as bouncers go.

“No, honestly! I am on the list!” cries one of them, reaching her arm out to try to grab the clipboard held by the bouncer. “Check again, please!”

“I’m not on the list, but Killian Jones definitely wants me to be!” says another girl, this one wearing a very tight miniskirt and crop top.

“We went to high school together! Tell him that Marnie is here to see him!” Cries a third who is obviously American and clearly lying. All three girls continue talking, vying for attention of the bouncer who seems utterly disinterested.

After a moment, the bouncer puts his hand up to his ear as if to listen to an earpiece. While the other three girls hold their breath in anticipation, Emma rolls her eyes. The man is obviously not wearing any ear pieces – just making a show to act like he is listening to something.

“None of you are on the list, and Mr. Jones does not want any visitors before the show. Please find a spot to watch and try again after,” he says.

“But-“ one of the girls starts.

“Before I call security – or the cops,” the bouncer says, instantly silencing the girls. All three turn around sadly, moving back towards the groups of people scattered on the grass. Emma takes a deep breath, looking down and smoothing out the dress she is wearing. With a renewed bit of courage, Emma takes a few strides forward before the bouncer sees her coming over.

“Mr. Jones has requested no visitors.” He says, his voice monotone and showing signs of having to repeat the same phrase over and over.

“He… he said I was on the list?” Emma says, the words coming out as more of a question than a statement.

“Name?” the bouncer asks, clearly bored.

“Emma… Emma Swan.”

At mention of her name, the bouncer perks up, a smile forming on his face. “Ah, yes, Miss Swan! Mr. Jones had told me he was expecting you. Come right on in.” He reaches down and opens up a pseudo-door in the half-wall, ushering Emma inside. “Behind the curtained area you will find Mr. Jones’ tour bus. He should be inside waiting.” With that, the bouncer turns his back to Emma and she can hear him being forced to deal with the three girls from before arguing about Emma being let in.

She is surprised to say the least – unsure how she actually was allowed into the backstage area. Maybe the fake Killian Jones works with the real Killian Jones, and that is how he knows so much? Maybe he just knows some people who are higher up in the rockstar totem pole and was able to get Emma in? Regardless, Emma somehow finds that her feet have carried her behind the curtains and up to the front of a large tour bus. There are the sounds of something strumming inside, an acoustic guitar not connected to any amps. It’s almost soothing… almost able to calm the butterflies in Emma’s stomach. But Emma still feels like she is either going to panic and run, or punch whatever it is that comes out of these bus doors.

She reaches out, using her wrist to knock twice on the door. It takes a moment, but she hears the guitar stopping and what distinctly sounds like cursing from inside the bus. The door opens, and before she knows what to do with herself, Killian Jones in the flesh is trudging down the stairs and yelling at the same time.

“I bloody told you ponces to not interrupt me before the concert unless I had a visi- Swan! You came!”

Emma stands dumbfounded, staring at the man in front of her. Killian Jones is wearing his trademark leather pants, a blue shirt that is barely even done up, and a black vest on top of it. His hair is perfectly coiffed, with that bedhead look he is known for, and there is way too much chest hair showing from below his shirt. And, on top of all that, he is standing in front of her and saying her name like he knows her.

“I… what… You’re KILLIAN JONES!” Emma cries, her voice a little too loud. She continues to stare, looking up and down at the form in front of her.

Killian, for his part, looks a little embarrassed. The tips of his ears have turned pink and one of his hands is rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… yes, love. I mean… I thought you knew.” He says.

“I… I did… but I didn’t…” Emma pauses, watching as a smirk forms on his lips. “Come on, though. Ships in a bottle, the organized bookshelf… the SOCK thing. Those do not sound like things Killian Jones would enjoy.”

“Well, those aren’t things the rockstar persona usually lets people know.” Killian replies, smirk now fully formed. “But it is well known that I own a boat, and enjoy going out on it. What people know about my sock habits is up to them. And I think I’ve mentioned the ship in a bottle thing on my last Rolling Stones interview.”

Emma continues to stare dumbfounded, racking her brain to remember these mundane facts. And… as she thinks about it, it all seems to fall into place. She did read that Rolling Stones interview. And his album cover has him out on a boat. And then the reality hits, Emma’s eyes widening at the realization that she has been flirting with her #1 celebrity crush for the past month. And he has been flirting back. And he is in front of her. And she is standing here like an idiot just looking at him.

Killian, for what it’s worth, is being really patient with Emma. And it takes her a minute to notice that he is actually running his eyes up and down her as well. Killian reaches out a hand, and Emma pulls her wrist back without thinking.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “Still getting over the shock.”

“No problem, love,” Killian replies, and oh how that word sounds so much better coming out of his mouth compared to being written out in text form. He pauses, looking from side to side and behind Emma.

“Where’s your boy?” he asks, and Emma’s heart flutters at Killian thinking not only about her but about Henry as well. “I thought you were going to bring him. Didn’t you say he was a fan as well?”

Emma relaxes a little heading into the familiar territory. “Henry wanted to watch the show with some friends, and while I normally don’t let him skip school, I kind of couldn’t say no if I was skipping work too.”

“Ah, I understand,” he says, a smile on his face. “Well, once the show is done you should bring him back. As I’ve told you, I’m always starving after a performance. We could go to that place you always tell me about, Granny’s?”

“That sounds nice,” Emma says, leaning forwards. Killian, over the last few sentences, has been moving slowly closer to Emma as well. And without any idea how, Emma realizes she only needs to lift her lips up a few inches and she could kiss him. Killian seems to be thinking the same thing, the two of them breathing in each other’s air.

“But perhaps now… it is time for you to give me that good luck…” Killian whispers, his tongue coming out to lick his lips to punctuate his statement. One of his hands tentatively comes up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. The skin burns as Killian’s hand moves past it, and Emma finds herself leaning into his palm as it stays next to her cheek.

“Perhaps… it is…” Emma replies, standing up on her toes and closing the barrier between their lips. At first it is slow, their lips moving in tandem. Killian pulls back for a quick second, and Emma gives him a small smile. Apparently that is all it takes, because Killian leans back in with a new vigor – his hand tangling in the hair in the back of her head and his mouth opening to hers.

Their tongues meet, and Emma tries to hold back a moan upon tasting him. She knows his pre-show rituals, especially the ones relating to food, and the mixture of chocolate and rum on his breath is intoxicating. Killian seems to think the same of Emma, as they continue to taste each other until they have to pull back for breath.

“Is that enough luck?” Emma asks, her voice a little unsteady as she smiles up at Killian.

“Perhaps I need a little bit more,” Killian says between breaths. And then he is leaning in again and drawing Emma towards him. The two stand there for who knows how long, switching between making out and, in Emma’s case, laughing about how ridiculous the situation is. (He is probably getting sick of how many times she says “You’re Killian Jones! I am making out with Killian Jones!”) After pulling apart for air, Killian moves his hand down Emma’s arm to grab her wrist.

“Come inside, have some rum-filled-chocolates. I still have a few things to do to warm up before the show, but I’d love some company.”

“Okay…” Emma says, allowing Killian to lead her up the stairs. “But if you try to murder me I’ll have you know I am armed.”

“I wouldn’t doubt that,” Killian says with a laugh, pausing as they reach the top of the stairs to close the door to the tour bus and sneak a quick kiss.

“And I do want to watch the concert,” she adds, sitting down on the plush couch next to the acoustic guitar.

“I’ll save you the best spot in the house,” Killian says, grabbing the guitar and sitting down next to Emma. “But first, a bit of a private show is in order.”

* * *

 

Honestly, if you had asked Emma Swan what would have come from signing up to some stupid online dating app, it definitely would not be this. After being graced with a private warm-up show, complete with a whole bunch of extra “luck-giving” sessions, Emma finds herself standing on the side of the stage while thousands of fans scream for Killian Jones as he sings his heart out.

The man knows how to control a stage – flirting with the girls in the front rows (who continue to push each other over to get closer), belting out the best notes, using his guitar as both an instrument and a prop. And, much to Emma’s happiness, every few minutes or so he sends a small glance to the side of the stage and his smile always grows upon catching Emma’s eye.

Yup, Emma never thought in thousand years she would be here.

She has a pretty good vantage point to look at most of the crowd, and she tries to spot the people that she knows. It is pretty obvious to her where Graham stands, his blue uniform standing out against the blacks and greys in the audience. It takes her a while longer to find Mary Margaret and David – the two standing off to the side from the mosh pit of people bouncing together in the middle of the field. And it is when Emma is searching for Henry, trying to pick out his face amongst the crowd, that Killian Jones stops singing and starts talking instead.

“Hello Los Angeles!” he calls out, his accent a little deeper for effect. He is rewarded by a voracious cheer, the crowd looking for more. As the cheers continue, Killian pulls off his electric guitar and a crew member trades it for an acoustic one.

“Now, some of you may be wondering why I wanted to host this impromptu musical session with you all,” he says, plugging the acoustic guitar into the speaker system. Again, the cheers are deafening, a loud cry of “Yes!” ringing through the field.

Killian laughs, continuing his speech. “Well, many of my fans know that I have been in somewhat of a rut, musically. And many more will know how much my manager absolutely hated how I was unable to come up with any new music. Well the winds have changed and the ship of song is sailing again. And, today,” Killian pauses, waiting to build effect, “I wanted to premiere my new song live in front of all of you.”

Emma didn’t think it was possible for the crowd to cheer any louder, but somehow they did. One of the girls near the front of the crowd has to be held back by Tiny as she tries to climb over the half-wall placed there, while the many people in the center of the field are literally bouncing with anticipation.

“This song has a bit of a different feel to it than what I normally write. Less punk-rock and more… well, you’ll see,” Killian continue. He turns his head to look directly back at Emma as he says, “I seem to have found my inspiration again in an entirely new form.”

Emma’s heart seems to have stopped, and though she registers people screaming and commotion occurring backstage, all she sees is Killian’s blue eyes and all she hears is his voice as he says, “I call it Song for a Swan.”

Hesitating just a moment longer, Killian turns back towards the microphone to begin the song. It isn’t like his normal fast-paced punk-rock music he usually puts out. This one is calmer, quieter, softer. The acoustic guitar rings out as Killian sings above it, speaking a song about new hope. He sings about ugly ducklings growing into their feathers, sings about learning who you are as you go, and sings about how the swans’ beauty can inspire you to become something you didn’t think you could be. And while to most people in the audience, it sounds like a fun song with some metaphors about a bird, to Emma she knows it is so much more.

The words speak of promises, of the things they’ve talked about over the past month, of the things Emma told Killian without even knowing it was him. They speak of how she changed things for him, brought him out of the writing slump he was in, and brought him new inspiration. And, somehow amid all of that, he still manages to get a Princess Bride reference in as well. Emma doesn’t realize she is crying until a tear falls down her face, one hand coming up to wipe at the rest of them away. The song is beautiful, and before she knows it Killian is thanking the crowd, and walking off the stage.

He hands his guitar over to another crew member, and heads straight towards Emma. His face has a giant smile on it, but it falters when he sees the tear streaks on her face. He says something, but the ringing in her ears is too loud, combined with the cheers and calls for an encore coming from the crowd.

Instantly, his arms are surrounding her. He leans in close, putting his mouth next to her ear so she can hear what he is saying. “Did I go too far, love?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

Emma shakes her head, only a little ashamed to be wiping her tears and snot on his vest. “It was perfect,” she whispers, leaning into his touch.

Killian reaches up with one hand to rub her back, the other coming to play with an errant curl that fell from her ponytail. Emma looks up at Killian and sees his eyes shining with happiness, then punctuates her statement by bringing her lips up to his.

The kiss is not as heated as earlier, the two opting to take things slow and send their emotions through small touches. Emma reaches her hands up, running them through his already-messy hair and drawing him closer to her as she deepens the kiss.

They both jump as someone clears their throat behind them. Killian pulls back for a moment as Emma feels her face reddening and hides herself in Killian’s shoulder.

“Your encore, Captain?” Emma looks over to see a short man with a red hat on holding out an electric guitar. Killian lets out a small laugh.

“Yes, of course Mr. Smee. Just got carried away a bit,” Killian says as the two disentangle and Emma tries to smooth out the bottom of her dress.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, turning back to Emma, “I have to go perform one more song. But if you don’t mind waiting, I would love to take you and your boy to Granny’s for some dinner afterwards.”

“Sounds fantastic. Now get out there!” Emma says, giving Killian a little shove towards the small man who is waiting impatiently as the cheers get louder and louder outside.

Killian grabs the guitar, strapping it on and heading towards the stage with a bit of extra swagger in his step. Before he steps on stage though, he pauses and comes back to Emma. He grabs her waist, pulling her up to him and drawing her into a kiss.

As he pulls back, Killian gives Emma a small wink and says, “One more for good luck, right?”

Emma’s watches Killian head on stage, her hand running over her mouth as it continues to tingle. A smile forms on her face as she watches Killian start to perform his biggest hit song to a roaring crowd.

If you had asked Emma Swan what would have come from signing up to some stupid online dating app, it definitely would not be this. But Emma cannot wait to see what else there is to come.

**Author's Note:**

> :) Thanks guys! Let me know what you think! :)


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